


I'm a Genie in a Bottle

by YamiHeart



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiHeart/pseuds/YamiHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The murder of Romulus Vargas takes Detectives Williams and Jones to a local night club that has more "private" activities available to anyone willing to pay. What's Detective Williams to do when he accidentally stumbles into one of the private rooms during the theme Arabian Nights?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm a Genie in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Note #1: Yes, I know that “Mucho Mundo” is a dumb name, but clubs are often named dumb things. Clubs can get away with anything. 
> 
> QN #2: Alfred and Mathieu call each other “Al” and “Matt”, but this does not mean they are suddenly becoming their 2p selves. I assure you, they are 1p the whole fic. They’re just good friends so they shorten each other’s names. 
> 
> QN #3: Alfred mentions a boyfriend, but who that boyfriend is is never specified, so feel free to make it whoever you want. I don’t care. owob

Alfred let out a low whistle as he pulled the undercover police cruiser into the parking lot of Mucho Mundo. The bass of the music playing inside the club was low and loud enough to vibrate the air around the building while the neon lights of the sign both assaulted a person’s eyes and beckoned them to enter.

“Geez…I can’t believe this place hasn’t gotten shut down for excessive noise complaints,” Alfred commented as he parked the car.

Mathieu rolled his eyes at his partner. “I can’t say I’m as surprised as you are. The Chief comes here at least once a week.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, and everyone knows it, too. Well, everyone except  _you_ , apparently.” Mathieu chuckled at his jab while exiting the vehicle. Alfred followed his partner, but he certainly wasn’t laughing.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry if I’ve got more important things to focus on than office gossip.”

“Oh, is that so?” The two men met up on the sidewalk leading to the club and walked in step together toward the entrance and the club. “I guess I forgot how important it is for you to text your boyfriend and scarf down donuts.”

Alfred went on the defensive. “Hey! Both of those things are  _very_  important. This guy’s the one, Matt. I can feel it in my bones!”

“Uh huh. And the donuts? Do you eat them just so you can brag about being the living embodiment of a stereotype?”

This time Alfred couldn’t help but laugh along with Mathieu. “ _No!_  Donuts just happen to be delicious!”

“Whatever, Al.”

Upon opening the doors to Mucho Mundo, both men were immediately hit with a suffocating amount of incense. Alfred, with his characteristic sensitivity, practically hacked up a lung, alerting way more people to their arrival than necessary. Mathieu was fairly used to Alfred’s behavior after being his partner for three years, so he stepped into the club with little more than an eye roll at the American.  Mathieu didn’t get too far, however, before a masked bouncer stood before them with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Sorry kiddos, but this is a private club. You don’t get in without an invitation or a chaperone.” The bouncer laughed, clearly not taking Alfred and Mathieu seriously. Being on the younger side, Alfred and Mathieu were used to such treatment. Without even thinking, the two detectives flashed their badges and IDs at the bouncer.

“We ain’t here to party, Aladdin,” Alfred explained as he stepped between Mathieu and the bouncer. The “Aladdin” nickname was an uncreative reference based on the bouncer’s vaguely-Middle Eastern garb. The air around the bouncer changed from playful to  _very_  displeased, yet Alfred kept going like he hadn’t offended the first guy he talked to. “We’re Detectives Jones and Williams, and we’re here to investigate a murder. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions while my partner here looked around a bit?”

“What?” Mathieu grabbed Alfred’s arm and got him to turn around. “Why am I the one going further in?”

Alfred flashed Mathieu a winning smile and gave him a thumbs up. “ ‘Cause I’m in a committed relationship, Matt! I can’t be seen around all these hot bodies! It would be like cheating!”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope!” Alfred pushed Mathieu past the bouncer and into a waitress carrying a platter of drinks. “Have fun! Try getting laid while looking for leads, ‘kay?”

“Alfred!” Mathieu turned to the waitress and apologized profusely, but she simply huffed and walked away. Thoroughly embarrassed, Mathieu turned back give a piece of his mind to Alfred only to find the bastard and the bouncer already gone.   

Mathieu had a lot of words he could have cried at that moment (such as “Damn you”, “Fuck you”, “God damn it Alfred”, and “Why me? What have I done to deserve a partner like you?”), but he decided his frustration could wait until after they were done investigating the club.

Taking a deep breath, Mathieu faced the pounding base and gyrating bodies and almost instantly got cold feet. Alfred was great with strangers, Mathieu was not. Alfred could talk and laugh and get comfortable around anyone one; Mathieu had taken six months to crack a joke in front of Alfred and took twice as long to get comfortable around him. Understandably, huge groups of people really weren’t Mathieu’s thing, so he felt a huge wave of relief when he saw a sign that read “Private Rooms”. He walked up to a counter near the sign where a Spanish man sat dressed in clothing just as vaguely-Middle Eastern as the bouncer’s (Mathieu was sensing a theme) and reading a cook book.

“Um, excuse me?” Why did Alfred really make him do this? Did he just enjoy watching his partner squirm?

The Spaniard put the book down and smiled. “ _Hola~_  How can I help you today?”

“My name is Detective Williams, and I was hoping if I could use one of these rooms to interview-”

“I know the perfect room for you!” The Spaniard’s excitement made Mathieu wonder if the man had actually heard a word he had said. “Take this hallway and enter the second door on the left. Here’s the key.”

Mathieu took the key and looked down the hallway the Spaniard had indicated. He had a bad feeling about taking the Spaniard’s advice, but the Spaniard’s smile was too bright to be argued with. Taking another deep breath, Mathieu marched down the hallway, unlocked the second door on the right and entered the room.

Whatever vaguely-Middle Eastern theme the bouncer and the Spaniard had been going for with their attire was a thousand times more prominent in the room. Orange and gold pillows with intricate bead patterns littered the ground while similarly-colored silks (or fabrics that looked like silks) covered the walls.  A few candles were lit, but their flames could not account for the heavy smoke in the air. No, that came from the lips of the man wearing little more than a vest and some poofy pants while lounging among the pillows. Only when Mathieu’s eyes locked with the lusty blue ones of the room’s sole occupant did the Canadian realize his mistake in requesting a “private room”.

“Oh…um…I….”

The man rose to his feet, a smooth smirk on his face, and slowly approached Mathieu without breaking eye contact. By the time Mathieu snapped out of the trance he had been put in, it was too late to escape because the door had slammed shut.

Wonderful, just wonderful. He hadn’t meant to actually follow Alfred’s instructions! Mathieu was supposed to be the responsible one of the two!

“Welcome,” the man purred, his accent distinctly French. How that Spaniard had known Mathieu’s weakness for Frenchmen, Mathieu would never know. “Why not take a seat?”

“That would be because I ca-okay.” Mathieu tried to argue, he really did, but once the Frenchman pushed him down to the pillows, there was no real point in continuing to fight. Even if Mathieu had  _wanted_  to get up, the Frenchman made it very hard to do so once he sat on Mathieu’s lap.

“I have not seen your face around here before,” the Frenchman continued. “Do you have a name?”

“Y-Yes…it’s…it’s um…” Mathieu just wanted to disappear. Could his cheeks have been any redder?

The Frenchman chuckled. “My name is Francois. You have chosen a rather interesting night to make your first appearance here. The theme is  _Arabian Nights_ , if you had not figured that out already.”

Mathieu just nodded. Words were completely failing him at the moment.

“And this room,” Francois’ voice grew husky as he wound his arms around Mathieu’s neck, proving the Canadian’s cheeks could indeed get redder. “This room for the night is called ‘The Lamp’. Do you know why?”

Mathieu shook his head.

“Because tonight,” Francois brought his lips to Mathieu’s ear and whispered, “tonight I am a genie in a bottle, you gotta rub me the right way to have all of your wishes granted.”

“D-Detective Williams!”

There was a pause before Francois pulled back. “Excuse me?”

Mathieu feebly held up his badge in front of his beet red face. “My name is Detective Mathieu Williams.”

“A detective?” Francois shrugged and pushed Mathieu’s badge aside. “I can work with that.”

“N-No! Don’t work with that! I am here to investigate a murder!”

Francois’ suggestive smile melted into a serious frown. “A murder? Who died?”

Mathieu let out a small sigh in relief. Thank goodness Francois had believed him. “Romulus Vargas. He was found dead in a hotel room two days ago. Do you recognize the name?”

“Do I recognize Romulus Vargas?” Francois snorted as he removed himself from Mathieu’s lap. “The whole club has been missing him. He used to come every day.”

“Used to?” Finally, real investigative work! This was something Mathieu could do. “Do you know what happened to change that?”

Francois nodded. “His daughter died six months ago, leaving behind two teenage sons. Romulus stopped coming here to take care of them. I cannot say I disagree with his decision, but his absence has made some of the nights a little slow.”

“Oh…” It seemed the napkin from Mucho Mundo in Romulus’ jacket pocket was just a dead end. That was too bad, but dead ends were common. He would just have to go find Alfred and…

Why was Francois back on his lap?

“Now that that is out of the way,” Francois dragged his fingers up Mathieu’s chest and hovered his lips over Mathieu’s. “Can we get back to my job? It has been a long time since someone as handsome as you walked through my door.”

Mathieu laughed awkwardly and kept his eyes off of Francois. “Um…I-I’m afraid the answer is no, but I understand I have taken up your time, s-so…” Mathieu grabbed his wallet and handed Francois fifty dollars. He dug around in his wallet a little more before pulling out a business card with his name and phone number, which he also handed to Francois. “Here’s some cash for your time and my number in case you think of anything we can use on the case.”

“Oh…” It was Francois’ turn to be disappointed as he held the cash and card in his hand. He didn’t let his disappointment show for long, however, because he had been trained to always put on a happy face for customers. “Thank you. I am sorry I could not be more helpful.”

“Nonsense.” The two men stood, but only Mathieu’s smile was genuine. “You’ve helped turn the investigation in the right direction by showing me where not to put my focus.”

“I take it you do not plan on returning, then.”

Mathieu nervously scratched his red cheek. “This place really isn’t me, I’m afraid. But…um…if you’re really interested in meeting up again…just…just flip the card over…”

Francois blinked curiously at Mathieu before doing as the Canadian suggested. On the back was a hand-penned phone number in blue ink. “Is this…?”

Mathieu could feel even his ears go red. “That’s my personal number. I wrote it on there a long time ago, but I never had the opportunity to use the card because…yeah….a-anyway, I have to go. Bye!”

Mathieu bolted out of the room without waiting for a reply. He didn’t stop running until he literally ran into Alfred at the front door.

“Hey, there you are Matt! Turns out this place is a bust ‘cause Romulus hasn’t been here in months!”

“I know.”

Mathieu walked around Alfred and headed for their car while trying to hide his bright-red face.

“You knew,” Alfred asked as he caught up.

“Yeah.”

“Then why did it take you so long to get back?”

Mathieu didn’t answer. Alfred grinned.

“Did you get  _laid_ , Matt?”

“Alfred!” Mathieu swung at his partner, but Alfred dodged and ran cackling like an idiot into the night.

“Matt got laid! Matt got laid!”

“Shut up! No I didn’t!”

And Mathieu wouldn’t for another two weeks. But when he did, he got a hot French boyfriend out of the deal. 


End file.
